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BY 


BENJAMIN  B.  WARFIELD 


A   THE   LIBRARY  OF 

TZ  GERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

EATHED    BY   HIM   TO 
4E   LIBRARY   OF 
THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


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HYMNSS&&3 
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BENJAMIN 

WARFIELD 


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PHILADELPHIA: 

THE  WESTMINSTER  PRESS 

1910 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  ALMIGHTY. 


Moderate 


Rev.  B.  F.  ALLEMAN,  D.  D. 


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0       the    love    of    God     Al  -  might  -   y, 


His  cease  -  less    love  1 


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Pierc  -  ing   thro'  the  depths  be  -  neath      us,        Through  the  heights    a  -  bove ; 


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Wid  -    er    than   the  bound-less    spac 

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Where    the  stars 

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do    dwell ; 
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Kind  -  ling  heav  -  en  with    its    bright  -  ness,         Reach  -  ing  down     to 


hell; 


-  ling  heav  -  en    with    its    bright  -  ness, 


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Reach  -  ing  down  to 


hell. 


Yea,  out  mother  may  forget  us ; 

Yea,  our  father  fail ; 
Yea,  the  bridegroom  may  grow  careless,- 

Other  thoughts  prevail: 
We  may  change,  and  all  the  whiteness 

Of  our  souls  may  blot: 
0  the  love  of  God  Almighty, 

Lo,  it  changes  not. 

Holy  is  the  Lord  Almighty, 

Righteous  past  compare: 
We  are  sinners, — who  among  us 

Can  His  vengeance  bear? 
Lo  the  Cross !    and  One  upon  it 

Coming  from  above ! 
O  the  love  of  God  Almighty, 

0  His  Saving  love! 


LORD  GOD  OF  ALL  THE  AGES! 

(ST.  GEORGE'S,  BOLTON.) 


JAMES  WALCH,  1875. 


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Lord  God  of    all  the    a  -  ges,  Lord  of  our  age  as  well,  Thou  sittest  in  Thy  heavens, 


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We    on  the  earth  do  dwell ;  Help  us    to  trust  Thee  whol-ly,     To  count  Thee  ev-  er 

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true,       And  all  that  Thou  command-est,    In   read  -  y    faith    to     do.        A  -  men. 


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We  hear  the  heathen  raging,  the  world's  rebellious  roar, — 
Thy  bands  they  cast  off  from  them,  Thy  sceptre  own  no  more; 
Yet  still  Thy  voice  is  calling  to  all  who  will  but  hear; 
Still  through  the  murky  darkness  Thy  light  is  shining  clear. 

This  shadow  that  we  dwell  in,  it  too  shall  pass  away, 
As  more  and  more  dawns  on  us  the  splendor  of  Thy  day ; 
0  help  us  in  our  weakness  Thine  empire  to  confess, 
And  fill  our  hearts  with  courage  to  trust  Thy  faithfulness. 

Lord  God  of  all  the  ages,  the  future  as  the  past, 

And  of  these  times  of  evil  in  which  our  lot  is  cast, 

Help  us  to  hear  with  trembling,  the  while  our  hearts  rejoice, 

The  thunders  of  Thy  marching,  the  whispers  of  Thy  voice. 


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HOW  GLORIOUS  ART  THOU,  O  OUR  GOD! 

(ST.  ANNE.) 

WILLIAM  CROFT,  1708. 


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How     glo  -  nous  art   Thou,      0 


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Who  dwell-est    in   Thy    people's  praise,   On  Thine    e  -  ter  -  nal    throne.       A-men. 


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How  many  voices,  diff'ring  tongues, 

Harmonious,  join  to  raise 
To  Thee,  O  Rock  of  Israel, 

Accumulating  praise ! 

From  Charran  and  Chaldean  Ur, 

The  River's  banks  along, 
From  Canaan's  heights  and  Egypt's  sands, 

Ascends  the  constant  song, — 

From  all  the  towns  that  stud  the  hills 

Of  teeming  Galilee, 
From  marts  of  Greece  and  misty  lands 

Beyond  the  Western  Sea. 

Fain  would  we  catch  the  accents  strange, 

Fain  train  our  ears  to  hear 
The  notes  that  hymn  Thee  through  the  years, 

O  Israel's  Hope  and  Fear! 

'Twas  Thou  didst  teach  Thy  Sons  of  old 

Thy  varied  laud  to  sing, 
School  Thou  our  hearts  that  we  may  too 

Our  hallelujahs  bring. 

How  glorious  art  Thou,  0  our  God! 

How  mighty  past  compare ! 
Thou  dwellest  in  Thy  people's  praise, — 

Accept  the  praise  we  bear. 


HYMN  FOR  THE  OPENING  OF  THE  SEMINARY. 

( SARUM.) 


Sir  JOSEPH  BARXBY,  1869. 


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to  year  more  green, — Lord,  we  thank  Thee,    Lord,    we  thank    Thee.    A-men. 

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'Twas  Thou  didst  raise  these  walls:   and  Thou  didst  give 
Thy  saints  Thy  truth  to  teach,  Thy  truth  to  live; 
They  wrought  their  work,  and  Thou  didst  it  receive, — 
Lord,  we  thank  Thee. 

Unto  their  feet  Thou  gatheredst  of  Thy  Sons, — 
The  love  of  Thee  waxed  fire  within  their  bones, 
The  world  has  heard  their  voice, — its  huts,  its  thrones, — 
Lord,  we  thank  Thee. 

God  of  our  fathers,  still  pour  out  Thy  grace 
In  plenteous  streams  upon  this  hallowed  place, 
Still  show  it  all  Thy  glorious  faithfulness, 
Lord,  we  pray  Thee. 

And  as  the  flood  of  years  rolls  ever  by, 
Build  here  Thy  holy  house  each  year  more  high, 
Establish  here  Thy  truth  unchangeably, — 
Lord,  we  pray  Thee. 

And  every  year  send  forth  a  sacred  host, 
Taught  of  thy  Christ,  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost, 
The  cross  their  only  theme,  their  only  boast, 
Lord,  we  pray  Thee. 


THE  ADVENT 

HTHE  Lord  has  come  into  His  world! 

"Nay,  nay,  that  cannot  be: 
The  world  is  full  of  noisomeness 

And  all  iniquity; 
The  Lord — thrice  holy  is  His  name — 
He  cannot  touch  this  thing  of  shame." 

The  Lord  has  come  into  His  world! 

"Ah,  then,  He  comes  in  might, 
The  sword  of  fury  in  His  hands, 

With  vengeance  all  bedight! 
O  wretched  world !  thine  end  draws  near, 
Prepare  to  meet  thy  God,  in  fear!" 

The  Lord  has  come  into  His  world! 

"What!  in  that  baby  sweet? 
That  broken  man,  acquaint  with  grief? 

Those  bleeding  hands  and  feet? 
He  is  the  Lord  of  all  the  earth, 
How  can  He  stoop  to  human  birth?" 

The  Lord  has  come  into  His  world! 

"A  slaughtered  Lamb  I  see, 
A  smoking  altar,  on  which  burns 

A  sacrifice  for  me ! 
He  comes — He  comes — O  blessed  day! — 
He  comes  to  take  my  sin  away !" 


THE  MOWER 

A    MOWER  went  forth  to  mow, 

And  crooned  his  workman's  song: — 
"Swing,  swing,  O  mower,  thy  goodly  scythe, 
Make  the  swath  both  wide  and  long." 

Gaily  the  grasses  grow, 

And  fling  their  heads  in  pride : — 
"Swing,  swing,  O  mower,  thy  goodly  scythe, 

Make  the  swath  both  long  and  wide." 

Quiet  they  lie  behind, 

Each  by  his  neighbor's  side : — 
"Swing,  swing,  O  mower,  thy  goodly  scythe, 

Make  the  swath  both  long  and  wide." 

Though  every  spear  of  them  all 
Be  a  man  in  right  or  in  wrong: — 

"Swing,  swing,  O  mower,  thy  goodly  scythe, 
Make  the  swath  both  wide  and  long." 


AUGUSTINE'S  PHILOSOPHY 

"HTHERE  is  a  place  for  everything, 

In  earth  or  sky  or  sea, 
Where  it  may  find  its  proper  use 
And  of  advantage  be," 

Quoth  Augustine,  the  saint. 

The  mocker  quick,  with  curling  lip : — 
"Then  there's  a  place  for  vice!" 

"Yea,  fitly  'neath  our  trampling  feet, 
May  lie  the  cockatrice," 

Quoth  Augustine,  the  saint. 

"Our  very  vices,  great  and  foul, 
When  in  the  earth  they're  trod, 

May  haply  lofty  ladders  build 
On  which  to  climb  to  God," 

Quoth  Augustine,  the  saint. 


PRAYER  AND  WORK 

CAID  one,  one  day:    "My  cause  is  good, 

The  Lord  will  prosper  it." 
Said  Luther:    "Take  it  to  Him,  then; 
That  were  provision  fit. 

"Trust  in  the  Lord,  not  in  thy  cause, 

However  good  it  be ; 
Take  it  forthwith  in  faithful  hands 

And  lay  it  on  His  knee. 

"The  best  of  causes  go  amiss ; 

The  Lord  will  never  fail: 
Commit  thy  ways  into  His  care, 

And  then — shake  out  thy  sail." 


10 


WANTED-A  SAMARITAN 

pRONE  in  the  road  he  lay, 

Wounded  and  sore  bested ; 
Priests,  Levites,  passed  that  way, 
And  turned  aside  the  head. 

They  were  not  hardened  men 

In  human  service  slack: 
His  need  was  great:  but  then, 

His  face,  you  see,  was  black. 


II 


TRUSTING  IN  THE  DARK 

CAID  Robert  Leighton,  holy  man, 
Intent  a  flickering  faith  to  fan 
Into  a  steady  blaze: — 
"Behold  yon  floweret  to  the  sun, 
As  he  his  daily  course  doth  run, 
Turn  undeclining  gaze. 

"E'en  when  the  clouds  obscure  his  face, 
And  only  faith  discerns  the  place 

Where  in  the  heavens  he  soars, 
This  floweret  still,  with  constant  eye, 
The  secret  places  of  the  sky 

Untiringly  explores. 

"Look  up,  my  soul!    What  can  this  be 
But  Nature's  parable  to  thee? 

Look  up,  with  courage  bright! 
The  clouds  press  on  thee,  dense  and  black, 
Thy  Sun  shines  ever  at  their  back — 

Look  up  and  see  His  light !" 


ii 


THE  BLOOD  OF  THE  LAMB 

f  DREAMED  a  dream  on  yesternight:— 

A  charnel  house  rose  on  my  sight, 
Vast,  crowded,  horrible.     Untold 
In  numbers,  in  the  gathered  mould 
Of  untold  numbers  more,  the  dead 
Lay  heaped,  each  frame,  each  ghastly  head 
Oozing  corruption.    Suddenly 
A  great  voice  sounded,  crying,  See ! 
And  lo !  a  Lamb  amid  these  dead, 
With  wounded  feet  and  wounded  head, 
And  wounded  side,  wherefrom  the  blood 
Surged  in  a  never-ceasing  flood. 
Again  the  voice  cried,  See !    And  lo ! 
The  Lamb  was  moving  on  with  slow 
Calm  steps,  the  serried  ranks  to  thread; 
And,  passing,  lo!  there  were  no  dead, 
But  in  their  place  a  gathering  train 
Hymning  the  Lamb  which  had  been  slain. 


13 


IN  THE  THEATRE— THIRD  CENTURY 

"WES,  Rome  hath  many  mimes  of  skill,  but  yet 
But  one  Genesius.    For  who  but  he 
Hath  power  to  make  us  roar  with  frantic  glee 
The  while,  in  Galilean  wise,  all  wet 
With  'sacred  water,'  sore  with  blows  and  th'  fret 

Of  chains  well-merited,  he  skulks      .     .     .     But  see ! 
He  comes!     Hear  how  they  greet  him!     Note  how  free, 
How  sure  his  play!    The  very  thing!    I'll  get 
The  cramps  from  laughter!     .     .     .     Bah!  what  ails  him 
now? 
The  baptizing  scene's  his  best, — and  there  all  white 
He  stands,  and  trembling!     111?    Nay,  what  says  he? 
'A  Christian !     Christ  the  Lord  hath  set  him  free !' 
To  the  lions  with  the  booby!     .     .     .     Yet,  somehow, 
I    doubt     .     .     .     What    makes    the    fellow's    face    so 
bright?" 


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IN  THE  WORLD-TWENTIETH  CENTURY 

/TENESIUS  on  the  stage  of  Rome,  what  time 
The  heathens'  rage  imagined  vanity, 
Made  sport  of  Christ,  until  the  all-seeing  eye 
Observed  and  pitied  the  deluded  mime. 
At  once  the  scales  fell  from  him ;  and  sublime 
In  holy  courage,  as  his  blasphemy 
E'en  so  his  faith  he  published  openly, — 
Wherefor  he  died  before  the  winter's  rime. 

Dear  Lord,  how  oft  do  we  on  narrower  stage 
Like  him  deny  Thee,  if  but  we  may  win 

Applauding  smiles  from  those  who  love  Thee  not? 
O  grant  us  too  to  hate  the  world's  mad  din, 

That  clamors  'gainst  Thee,  and,  our  shame  forgot, 
On  heart  and  lips  to  bear  Thy  name  from  age  to  age. 


15 


OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT-WATCHES 

JDEACE!  peace!  the  night  will  pass!     No,  no,  not  yet 
The  robin's  call  awakes  the  drowsy  day. 
Nay,  'tis  the  robin !  and  from  far  away 
An  oriole's  whistle !     How  the  sparrows  fret, 
A  noisier  Babel  in  my  hedge-row  set ; 

They  quarrel  with  the  dawn!     And  hark,  that  bay 
Of  dog!    And  now  a  footfall  on  the  way! 
'Tis  morning  beating  at  my  lattice-net! 

Great  God,  the  light  is  Thine :  nay,  Thou  art  light ! 
O  that  this  restless  longing  of  my  heart 
Might  pipe  me  warning  of  Thy  rising  rays! 
So  would  my  fretting  thoughts  of  yesternight 
Cease  their  complaining,  and  employ  their  art 
To  drown  the  darkness  in  their  iterant  praise. 


16 


APOCALYPTICS 

TN  His  own  time,  in  His  own  way,  He  came, 
The  Hope  of  Israel:  not  in  such  guise 
As  flared  before  the  anger-smarting  eyes 
Of  those  old  watchers,  who,  in  stolen  name 
Of  seer  or  sibyl  (heedless  of  their  shame), 
Would  drown  in  glory  present  infamies, — 
Prophets  of  hope,  but  prophets  too  of  lies, 
With  vengeful  passion,  not  with  love,  aflame. 
God's  ways  are  not  as  ours :  the  sun  shall  cease 
Before  His  glory  when  He  comes  again; 
As  when  He  came  at  first,  all  thoughts  of  men, 
Their  dreams  of  unfound  joys,  of  untried  peace, 
Their  hopes  of  succor  in  their  bitter  ruth, 
Stood  all  abashed  before  the  unimagined  truth. 


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